Favored Foundling
by fackio-zally
Summary: Tom Riddle is Hogwart's Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and the CEO of a muggle insurance company. Harry is the orphan he adopted to become his heir. Okay, that's a shit summary. Basically Tom adopts Harry and it's a story of their life together. Shoot me.
1. Chapter 1

One

It was a cold and rainy mid-October Sunday in London. The children at St. John's orphanage sat inside playing games of monopoly and make believe. Not that they had much else to do. The one board game of monopoly was over thirty years old and battered, and any other games they had were either incomplete or broken. Therefore those games got used in make believe stories that the children would act out. All except one.

Young Harry Potter, aged ten, sat in the dark closet in the front hall, listening to the sounds of all the other children enjoying their Sunday afternoon. He was being punished. Earlier that day, before the rain had started and the children were allowed to play outside, Harry had been left all alone by a remote corner of the orphanage's yard. So he decided to practice a trick he had learned he could do a few months prior. Concentrating on a couple of pebbles in front of him, Harry had made them float. He kept them suspended in the air until the shriek of another child caused him to lose focus. One of the girls was wailing and pointing at Harry, making all eyes turn to him and the pebbles that had just fallen from the air.

He was well aware that he was a freak, and he tried to hide it as much as possible so that others wouldn't have to be suspect to his freakishness. But sometimes, when he was alone, he liked to practice. The feeling of the power that rushed through him every time he did so was euphoric. Young Harry felt like he could rule the world with that power. He couldn't always control it though. In moments of fear or anger, things would happen around him. Onetime, when a group of the bigger boys were ganging up on him, he squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them, found himself back in his room. He couldn't explain those times, but he felt that it was his freakish power.

The matron of the orphanage had tried many ways to make him normal. They all ended in dismal failure. Beatings, starvation, and isolating him for days. They hadn't worked. In a desperate attempt when he was just five, she brought him to the priest and had an exorcism performed on him. He hadn't understood at the time, but it had frightened him enough to never want to go back to that church ever again. The other children stayed away from him, learning from the caregivers and the matron to shun him and belittle him. It had become a game to them. Anyone who found Harry would call the others over and they would all torment him together.

In the end, the matron figured that she wouldn't be able to get rid of the freakishness about him, but she could suppress it. Any time Harry would do anything of a "freakish nature" he would be locked in the closet. He was allowed one small meal if he was locked in during meal times and the punishments would range from one hour to one whole week . At first, the punishments were unbearable, but then Harry grew to be accustomed to them. He even made use of the time he was put in the closet for. The punishments gave him time to practice control over his freakish abilities. It was what he was doing now, shutting out the rest of the world and focusing on the power inside of him.

Outside of Harry's closet, the front door of the orphanage opened and then slammed shut. A tall, lean man in his mid-fifties took off his wet hat, revealing a head of graying brown hair. His coat came off next, showing his fancy suit and as he hung the two on the coat rack, some of the caregivers stared at him. His suit was perfectly tailored for him, made from the fines cloth. It was mostly black, with the occasional green or silver accessories. A green handkerchief was in the breast pocket, the silver tie had thin green stripes on it, and there was a small silver snake pin on the collar of his shirt, it's eyes two small emeralds.

The man was impeccable. Not a hair out of place on his person. As he surveyed the hall, his eyes lingered on the closet door. He adjusted the thin framed glasses covering his gray eyes and frowned at the noise emitting from the other room.

"Oh, Mr. Riddle!" The matron of the orphanage called out from down the hall. She was a thick old woman with thinning auburn hair and a wart on her chin. The children liked to call her Miss Wart behind her back. Harry just called her Miss Thornwood, as that was her name. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

"Good evening, Miss Thornwood," Mr. Riddle bit out, careful not to touch the woman as she made her way towards him. He didn't enjoy the visits he made, but for the sake of keeping appearances he continued them. This orphanage had been the beneficiary of his vast fortune for many years now, only continuing it with the hope that someone worthy would appear to become his heir.

Mr. Riddle eyed the woman through his glasses. "I suppose you've forgotten our monthly meeting." A brow carefully raised as the matron stiffened in fear. Mr. Riddle was not a man to upset. The owner of the country's leading insurance company, he had risen to the top and became one of the youngest CEO's of his age. There were also rumors with the locals that he ran an underground organization, accounting for his fast rise to power. But as they were just rumors that the locals had exaggerated to gain some sense of excitement, he never bothered to correct them.

"Oh no, sir," Miss Thornwood smiled, her teeth an orange-yellow, "I would never forget about our meetings, Mr. Riddle."

She giggled like a school girl at his look of pure indifference. For years she had been vying for Mr. Riddle's attention, and to no avail. Mr. Riddle was simply not interested in her kind. He detested the kind of groveling she did, as it was undignified. And for all those years, she had not once noticed that Mr. Riddle had no speck of interest in her other than the fact that she was the head of the orphanage.

Miss. Thornwood led him down the wall and to her office. The children stopped their playing as he passed the open door and all stared wide eyed at him. He glanced once over at them, and then returned to staring blankly at the wall. Once inside the matron's office, he glided over to the large seat behind the desk. The matron's seat. The seat of power.

The matron giggled nervously and went over to her liquor cabinet. "Would you like something to drink, Mr. Riddle?"

"No, thank you," he politely declined, and then motioned to the seat across from him. "Miss Thornwood, please, take a seat."

She was quick to oblige the subtle yet powerful command and scurried over to the open seat. Mr. Riddle was reminded of a rat, scurrying its way into a trap.

"Mr. Riddle, I just want to say – ."

"Don't speak until I tell you to," Mr. Riddle said calmly, giving the matron a pointed stare. After a moment of silence, he put his finger tips together and spoke.

"I assume all the children have been good?" He asked.

"Oh yes, they're just darling little angels," Miss Thornwood lied, fearful that if Mr. Riddle ever found out about Harry's freakish behavior, she'd lose the funding for the orphanage. Correction, she would lose the funding for her liquor cabinet and fancy decorations.

"I see... And they all get along well? No one child's been out casted? They all do well in school?" To Miss Thornwood, who was sweating now, Mr. Riddle seemed to be perfectly calm in his inquiries.

"Of course, of course! They're all one big happy family." Another lie. Miss Thornwood smiled, hoping it would make her seem more believable, and trying to shove all thoughts of the child in the closet away. "And they all do well in school. Of course, some are more talented than others, but that's how children are."

Mr. Riddle nodded and stood. "That's good then. I'm afraid I'll have to cut our meeting short. Important business to attend to."

The matron nodded and then noticed the clock face on the wall.

_Harry will be getting his dinner now_, she thought with a paling face. _That means if Mr. Riddle leaves now, the freak will be seen! And I've been so careful!_

She got up and stepped in front of Mr. Riddle as he was about to leave the room. "Oh, surely there must be something else?"

With a suspicious look, he pushed her aside. "I'm afraid so. As I said before, I've very important business to attend to elsewhere." He stepped into the hall and was stopped immediately by the sight before him.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Riddle asked, his voice stern and dark. Before him, a young boy with messy black hair and emerald eyes was being handed a plate with a meager amount of food. The boy was in the doorway of the closet, and he looked as though he had been in there for most of the day. He was looked no older than seven, he was so short and scrawny. The caregiver looked at Mr. Riddle in fear, tenuously holding the plate out to the young boy. The child just grabbed the plate and blinked sheepishly at Mr. Riddle.

"She was just bringing me my dinner, Mr. Riddle?" He told the older man in a steady voice. "It's not any different from any other night. Though, I think it might be a bit earlier."

Mr. Riddle studied the child and knelt down so he was eye level with the boy. "How old are you?"

"Ten, sir." The answer surprised Mr. Riddle, though he didn't show it. If the boy was this small at ten years, he was either severely short or underfed as a child. Mr. Riddle was going to put his money on the latter.

"What's your name?"

"Harry Potter, Mr. Riddle, sir." Harry sat down with the plate and began picking at the piece of bread.

"I see." Mr. Riddle smiled. It was a small, lopsided smile, but it was a rare event and Harry felt as though he probably should've taken a picture if he had a camera. "And what, pray tell, were you doing in the closet of all places Harry?"

"I was being punished sir." Harry went on eating.

Mr. Riddle's outward mood did a complete one-eighty. He frowned and stood up stiffly, his eyes flashing a deep red behind his glasses. "For what?"

Miss Thornwood cleared her throat. "He's just joking Mr. Riddle. He likes to hide in the closet, don't you Harry? 'Causes us a lot of grief when we can't find him."

"Is this true, Harry?"

Harry looked up from his plate, a vacant look in his eyes. He almost smirked as he said, "I never said that I disliked my punishments."

"Why are you being punished? I was under the impression that all the children were being treated equally and fairly."

As Miss Thornwood opened her mouth to interject, Mr. Riddle shut her up with a glare.

"Oh. I'm not a child like the rest of 'em, sir. I'm a freak. That's why I get put in the closet sometimes."

Mr. Riddle knelt down again. "Who told you that you're a freak, Harry?"

"Oh, everyone. They're right to. I can do things that others can't. I can make people do things if I want to, but I don't do that often. I can make things float and disappear. Sometimes I can even get from one place to another if I'm scared enough."

The gray eyed man stood up and brushed off imaginary dust from his suit. Miss Thornwood backed up a step, terrified that Mr. Riddle would stop providing for the orphanage because of this little slip.

"Miss Thornwood." She jumped at the sound of her name. "I'll be back for young Harry Potter tomorrow morning. He is to have his things packed and be ready by nine."

"Mr. Riddle, I don't understand," Miss Thornwood laughed, wringing her hands. Harry just watched as Mr. Riddle stared at the matron as though she were a cockroach.

"You heard me. Harry will be living with me starting tomorrow."

The old matron blanked for a moment, and then smiled widely as she realized.

_The freak is leaving!_ she thought joyously. "Yes, yes! Of course. We'll have him ready by eight-thirty!"

Mr. Riddle sneered at her eagerness and went to collect his things. Before leaving, he glanced at Harry one last time, noting the empty look on the young boy's face. "Just make sure he's ready." The door slammed shut behind him as he walked out.

None of the caregivers noticed as Harry finished his meal and snuck quietly back upstairs to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Mr. Riddle, full name Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, smirked as he apparated away from the orphanage with a small crack, landing gracefully in the foyer of a large manor. All those years of waiting had finally paid off.

He'd have rather not found a magical child subjected to the muggle orphanage he'd been funding, but it was better than snatching one off the streets or from an abusive home. It was only by luck that he was finally able to get a hold of the child residing in the closet.

Nine years had passed since he had first felt the magic from another while leaving a meeting the the pig of a matron. Ever since he'd been hoping and trying for a chance to see the child and get them out. But he had no clue as to which child it was and did not want to spend any more time than necessary in the run down building.

Luck was on his side that Tom had left earlier with the excuse of an important meeting to attend. He had sensed the magic coming from inside the closet as he made his way to the matron's office. Emerald eyes had been peeking through the slits on the door and widened slightly when they had seen him. He smirked and let out a low chuckle as he sat down in the black leather armchair within his office.

_The child will be coming here tomorrow, _he thought. _I'll have to prepare a room for him. Salazar know's the house elves won't be able to._

A knock came at the door, drawing Tom out of his thoughts, and he quickly dropped the glamours. Graying hair became full and dark, gray eyes turning to a bright crimson, and any sign of age completely vanished.

"Come in," he ordered, removing the glasses from his face and placing them in the drawer to his left. A man, with long silver hair and grey eyes kneeled, bowed his head, and said, "My Lord."

"Ah, Lucius. Just the wizard I wanted to see." The dark lord's small smile was menacing. "Tell me, what news from the ministry do you bring?"

"Your plans are going well. The minister is convinced that our suggestions are the right path. He has no idea who is really pulling the strings." Lucius stood as he spoke, looking Tom right in the eyes.

"Good, good." Tom continued to smile, his thoughts returning to the boy from the orphanage.

"Sir, is everything alright?" Lucius asked. The smiling dark lord made the blond feel uneasy. The only times a smile like that appeared on his face was when something went wrong and one unlucky underling would be getting cruciated.

"Oh, yes. Everything is perfectly fine. Tell me, is there still that spare room across from my own?"

"Yes." Lucius watched as his lord stood up and walked out of their meeting, not caring about the rest of the information. He followed the dark lord to the far end of the East wing of the manor, where the bedroom was located. Tom opened the door to the empty room across from his own, looked around briefly, and then began to furnish it.

"Sir, if I may ask," Lucius waited for the go-ahead. "What is all of this for?"

"You have a son, don't you?" Tom didn't answer the blond's question. "How old is he?"

"Ten, sir."

"Hm, same age then." Tom used his wand to change the colors of the wall from a pale gray to a dark forest green accented with slim silver snakes along the floors and ceilings. He enlarged the windows of the south facing wall and added a window seat with plump black pillows.

"Excuse me sir, but who is the same age as Draco?"

Tom sighed and stopped rearranging the furniture, the desk he had conjured floating where he had left it. "The boy I plan on gaining both muggle and wizard guardianship over. He'll be coming tomorrow." He returned to fixing the desk in place.

Lucius bowed his head, realizing he wouldn't be needed any longer, "I'll be taking my leave then."

Once Lucius had left the wards of the manor, Tom dropped his show of actually thinking about where to place the furniture and just sent them all into a standard position. If the Potter child didn't like it, he could get a house elf to change it.

He left the room and returned to his office, focusing on the paperwork he needed to get through before the school year started up again.

-v-v-

Harry was allowed to return to his room the next morning to pack his things. It was eight o'clock now and he was just killing time by packing and repacking his meager amount of possessions. They consisted of three pairs of pants, all two sizes too big, and six ratty shirts, varying in size and color. And that was counting the ones he had on now. He had three pairs of boxers and socks each in addition to his clothes. Around his neck hung the locket that was the only thing remaining from his family. The only other items he had were all inside a small tin box and an old book that was falling apart at the seams he had read it so many times. Inside the tin box were items he had found and kept because he liked them: an owl's feather and a black rabbit's foot for example. Most of the items he found outside, but the rabbit's foot he had taken from another child who had left it unattended.

And that was it. All of his possessions could fit in a small suitcase, the one give to him to pack with.

Harry poked his head out of his bedroom door and looked at the old grandfather clock that stood at the end of the hall. It read eight-twenty-eight. He ducked back inside and neatly placed all of his things inside and closed the suitcase lid.

A sharp rap came at his door. "Hurry up, boy! It's eight-thirty now. Get downstairs!"

"Yes Miss Thornwood," Harry droned as he pulled the suitcase off his musty bed and carried it out and down to the main floor of the orphanage. Miss Thornwood walked behind him, her Sunday best on along with a generous amount of makeup. She took her knowledge of Mr. Riddle coming back as a chance to show off.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes, knowing the reasoning behind Miss Thornwood's "impeccable" dress. The thing was too tight on her and looked to be a mixture of puke green and the ugliest shade of yellow in existence. Harry couldn't quite tell whether or not the yellow splotches were supposed to be flowers. He didn't keep his eyes on the dress long enough to find out.

Miss Thornwood grabbed Harry by the shoulder, her overgrown nails, which were recently painted red, digging into his skin. "Now listen carefully, boy. Mr. Riddle will be coming at nine o'clock sharp. I don't want you messing things up with him. You best show him that we are one of the best orphanages around. And none of that freakish stuff! Or he'll be sending you back for sure."

Harry nodded his head, mentally scowling at her words. He wasn't worried about Mr. Riddle sending him back if he did anything freakish. At least not yet.

Miss Thornwood ushered him out to the front step, where he spent the better part of a half-hour waiting. It felt like forever before a sleek black car pulled to a stop at the orphanage gate. Miss Thornwood burst out from inside and stood next to Harry, quickly fixing her hair and patting down her dress.

A black haired man with the most vibrant ice blue eyes either of the two had ever seen stepped out of the driver's seat. He was tall, at least six feet, and his hair fell about his shoulders. He passed right by the back door and opened the trunk of the car instead, and then proceeded to walk past the orphanage gates and towards the two waiting on the front step. A cheshire cat grin was plastered to his face, showing off teeth that appeared to be slightly pointed.

"Hello there!" He was American. "I'm here to pick up a Mr. Harry Potter." He looked between the two, as he walked up.

Miss Thornwood cleared her throat, "Where's Mr. Riddle?"

The man stopped in front of them and dropped the grin, "Oh, right. Sorry, forgot that part." He fished around in his jacket for something. Harry noticed the locket around the man's neck and the cuff on his right ear.

_Well he's an interesting character._ Harry thought.

"Ah-ha!" The man pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope and handed it to Miss Thornwood. "My partner in crime sends his apologies. Something urgent came up. I'm here to pick up Harry in his stead."

After Miss Thornwood took the envelope, the man squatted down in front of Harry and smiled again, his pointed teeth unnerving Harry.

"And who are you to Mr. Riddle?" Harry asked shakily. The teeth really did put him off.

The man's smile widened, if possible, and he took a step back and bowed. "I'm Harson Scorpion Foreking, at your service. I'm a… Business associate of Tom's. Oh, and don't tell him I called him that in public. The man hates his name."

Harson winked, grabbed the handle of Harry's bag, and straightened as Miss Thornwood finished reading the papers.

"I suppose I'll go get those forms now and let you two on your way," she huffed.

"Please do." Harson watched as the matron stepped back inside and burst into laughter as soon as the door closed. "Oh man, did you see what she was wearing?! I thought my eyes might've melted out of my head if I had to look at the thing one more time!"

Harson continued to roar, making Harry smile. Harson stopped laughing, his smile still present.

"There we go," he said, patting Harry on the head. "You should smile more often. It suits you."

Miss Thornwood came back out and handed a packet of papers to Harson.

"Thank you, mademoiselle. I'll make sure he gets them back to you," he placed a hand gently between Harry's shoulder blades and led him to the car. "Come on, Harry. I've got a long list of things to do before we finally get you to your new home."

Harson opened the back door of the vehicle for harry, closed it once Harry was in, and then placed Harry's bag in the trunk of the car before finally sitting in the driver's seat.

"I've got a few errands to run before we can go to the manor," Harson explained, pulling away from the orphanage. Harry tuned out the rest of his words as he watched London go by though the car window. He stayed inside the car as Harson stopped at several small shops along the way. The man always came back with a package or two in hand and placed them either inside the trunk or on the passenger seat.

_For such an odd person, he sure seems respected by these shop owners_ Harry thought as he watched one particular owner give Harson something for free. It had happened at many of the shops. The bakery that they had stopped at had even offered the man sweet after sweet. He had refused them all and Harry thought that Harson might not like sweet things.

The driver's door opened and Harson started the car with a sigh. After that, he turned around and smiled at Harry. "That was the last of them. You can sleep on the way, if you feel like it. Long drive ahead of us."

"That's alright," Harry replied. "I'll stay up."

Harson shrugged, turned back around and started driving. Once they were out of the city, Harson doubled the speed of the car. Harry was slightly worried at first, but calmed down once he realized that Harson was an incredibly good driver.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of driving, a small village came into view. Harson slowed the car down and drove to the outskirts of the village. A large house, at least three stories high, came up beside them. It was dark and surrounded by enormous hedges. The closest houses weren't too far away, but far enough that they wouldn't be able to hear anything that came from the house.

Harry got out of the car after Harson, preparing himself for whatever horrible things could be inside. He imagined that Mr. Riddle would have an old maid, worse than Miss Thornwood. He shuddered at the thought and went around to the trunk to held Harson.

"Don't look so frightened," Harson chuckled at Harry, opening the trunk. "That's not the actual manor. It's only for public use, he's a bit paranoid like that. The actual place is a lot cooler than this. But I wouldn't call it homey." Harson handed Harry his suitcase before grabbing all the boxes and holding a stack in each hand.

"'Fraid I have to ask you to carry that. We've got a little walk ahead of use." Harson motioned towards the suitcase. "Also, can you close the trunk?"

Harry obliged and followed Harson towards the woods behind the house. Neither said a word as they walked along a barely visible path, but Harson whistled a lively tune. Other than his clear whistle, birds and insects chirped as the sun began to sink.

"Almost there," Harson called out after twenty minutes of walking. The tree's started to thin and Harry could make out the shape of a long building. Once it was visible, Harry gasped. On top of a small hill was the biggest house Harry had ever seen. It was made completely out of gray stone, pillars holding up the roof of the front porch.

"Wait 'till you see the inside," Harson commented, chuckling at Harry's awed expression. Harry flushed, embarrassed that he'd been caught look so astounded, and hurried after the dark haired man.

Once they were at the front door, porch pillars looming over them, Harson held all the boxes in one hand and opened the door with the other.

"Welcome to chez Riddle. Well, he prefers Dark Lord's Castle, but it's more of a manor," Harson kicked the door closed once Harry was inside. "You can leave your bag here. A house elf will bring it to your room."

Harry didn't ask what a house elf was. He was too busy soaking in the enormous size of the foyer. There was a fire place, unlit, to the wall on his right, and directly in front of him was a grand staircase carpeted in a deep silver and green fabric. The walls had some paintings and portraits that moved. The paintings were moving! Some of them eyes Harry judgmentally or scornfully while others wished him and Harson a "Good evening". Harson was chatting pleasantly with one when a short, gray skinned, big eyed and big eared creature popped into the room.

"Hello Master Foreking! And new Young Master!" It squeaked. Harry figure that this must be a house elf, but he couldn't tell if it was male or female.

"Hello Tapsy," Harson returned the greeting, excusing himself from his conversation with the portrait. "How's Master Riddle?"

"The Master Riddle's been up in his study all day, Master Foreking," Tapsy informed Harson.

"Oh, now that just won't do at all." Harson grinned mischievously, handing the packages to the shabbily dressed house elf. It vanished with a pop.

After clearing his throat, Harson took a deep breath. Harry would've covered his ears if he had known what was coming next.

A moment's pause of holding the breath, Harson shouted, "Honey! I'm hooommee!"

It echoed through the entire house, and sounded ten times louder than Harry thought possible. Silence washed over the house.

And then there was a loud bang.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

"How many times have I told you to come to my office and inform me quietly of your arrival, you insufferable," the man saw harry and seemed to quickly switch his word choice, "dark creature! Why did I ever agree to work with you?"

Harson chuckled, "Because of my irresistible charm, obviously."

The man at the top of the stairs looked like a younger version of Mr. Riddle. His hair was fuller, not graying, and his face held no sign of age. Harry would've thought he was Mr. Riddle's son, if it weren't for the crimson red eyes behind the same thin rimmed glasses.

The man took the glasses of and tucked them into his breast pocket as he made his way down the stairs. "You charm is non-existent, so it couldn't possibly be that."

"Riddle, you hurt me," Harson clenched his heart at the cold glare he received.

"You're Mr. Riddle?" Harry asked, unbelieving. "Mr. Riddle's in his fifties! You don't look a day over thirty!"

Harson's grin widened while the other pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I'm Mr. Riddle, the patron of St. James' orphanage, of which you were a previous resident. The very same man who is owner of Riddle Insurance Company and the current dark lord of the wizarding world," the man bit out, sending another glare at Harson, who was busty biting back another fit of laughter.

"Sorry, 'dark lord of the wizarding world'?" Harry gave him a questioning look. "Are you saying you're a wizard?"

Mr. Riddle and Harson both looked down at Harry, both very serious. Mr. Riddle was the first to speak. "Yes, I'm a wizard. You are as well. All those thing you can do; move objects at will, get people to do things for you, disappear and reappear someplace else. I can do them and more."

Harry glared, crossing his arms and studying Mr. Riddle with careful eyes, "Prove it."

Mr. Riddle raised a single eyebrow and stood straighter, "Prove what?"

"Prove that you're like me. That you can do what you say you can."

Mr. Riddle smirked and waved his hand. From across the room a picture floated off the wall and over to his hand, the portrait inside looking bored as ever by the display of magic. Harry watched as Mr. Riddle returned the painting and nodded his approval.

"Scorpion, you may go," Mr. Riddle ordered the other man, who was leaning against the wall as he watched the exchange. Harson bowed, if somewhat comically, and exited through a door on the left side of the room.

"Now, Harry, that you've been made aware of the world you are to live in, there are some things you need to know," Mr. Riddle stared down at the young boy. "One of the most important is that you are to never let any muggle know of the existence of our world."

"Muggle, Mr. Riddle?" Harry asked, noticing Mr. Riddle's scornful look at the word.

"People who do not have magic," he said it with a look of disgust. "Like the intolerable people in the orphanage."

Harry's face scrunched up in thought. _Muggles. I was living with people who weren't aware of what I was and hated me because of it?_

Mr. Riddle must've realized what Harry was thinking because he added, "Don't dwell on that matter. Those ingrates will get what they deserve. For now, I'll show you to your new room and explain schooling and rules to you."

Mr. Riddle turned around, starting to head off, but stopped when he noticed that Harry was not following. As if on command, Harry bowed his head and scuffed his feet.

"What is it, child?" Mr. Riddle asked harshly.

Harry looked up at Mr. Riddle, who was staring back down at him, crimson eyes waiting. "Are you saying that I'm not a freak?"

A furious calm came over Mr. Riddle, Harry could see it in the way the older man's eyes went from a bright crimson to a dark blood red. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone at the orphanage, Mr. Riddle, sir."

Mr. Riddle snorted. "No, Harry, you are not a freak." he said the word with great venom. "You're above them, and therefore they tried to contain you and make you feel like less than you are. Do you understand?"

Harry simply nodded, only vaguely getting the idea. "Good, now come along." With a sweeping turn, Mr. Riddle started back up the stairs, Harry hurrying after him.

"You will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, beginning at the start of next school year. In the meantime, I'll have one of my followers teach you the proper ways and customs of the wizarding culture." They turned a corner and started down a long hallway. "You are to stay in the East wing of the manor. It is my personal quarters and will be yours as well. You may have free reign, within reason, of that side," He looked back to make sure Harry was still following. "Step anywhere outside the boundaries without my permission or disturb my work and you will be severely reprimanded. You will be allowed outside anytime unless I have said otherwise."

They stopped in front of a dark wooden door, which opened when Mr. Riddle touched it. "This is your room. If anything isn't to your satisfaction, as any of the house-elves and they will either bring the issue to me or fix it themselves. Breakfast is served from seven to nine in the morning; lunch is from twelve to one. Dinner will be at seven-thirty every day. You are expected to show up at dinner unless you are away, gravely ill, or I tell you otherwise."

Harry nodded as he stared wide eyed at the lavishly furnished room.

"I'll need to get you some appropriate attire," Mr. Riddle commented, looking over Harry's shabby outfit. "No, a new wardrobe would be better. I'll also have Lucius look into getting a tutor for you. We'll have to catch you up before you begin school."

"Catch me up on what, Mr. Riddle?" Harry asked as he turned to look at the older man again.

"Basic wizarding knowledge and customs. I'd be teaching you myself, but Lucius' tutors will have to do for now." Mr. Riddle looked at Harry carefully. "And don't call me 'Mr. Riddle.' Anything else will do."

"Can I call you Tom?" Harry blurted out, remembering immediately afterwards that Mr. Riddle disliked his name.

Mr. Riddle's face twitched slightly and he huffed out, "Why don't you stick with 'sir' or 'professor', hmm?"

"If you're a professor, why don't you teach me what I need to know?" Harry felt like hiding his face at the exasperated look on Mr. Riddle's face.

"Because, boy, there are blubbering brainless buffoons called students at the institution that I teach who do not understand the principals that I am trying my damndest to teach," Mr. Riddle released a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm only able to see to you because I've taken today and tomorrow off. You won't be seeing much of me after tomorrow, as I'll be returning to the school."

Harry nodded his understanding, turning slightly to look back inside the bedroom that was to be his. Mr. Riddle took note of this and checked the watch on his writs. "Dinner will be at seven-thirty. A house-elf will come and get you when it is time."

With that, the older man turned and left the way they had come. Harry watched until Mr. Riddle vanished and entered his new room, closing the door behind him.

It was an incredibly room, a dream compared to his room at the orphanage. The walls were a deep forest green with slim silver snakes along the edges of the floor and ceiling. To the left side of the room was a four poster bed, a night stand on either side of it, covered in something that looked like silk. Harry felt as that if he were to hold the green fabric, it would be soft and slip right out of his hands like water. The wall directly in front of him had a large bay window with window seat as its main feature. To the right of it was a wooden desk. On the wall to his left was a dresser and in between the dresser and the desk was another door. Harry opened it and saw a vast space; a closet. He quickly closed the door and went over to the window seat. On one side of the seat was a small bookshelf. Harry smiled and ran his fingers along one of the shelves as he sat on the seat. The seat itself was more like a bench with a cushion and pillows. The pillows were black velvet and plump. Once Harry was done admiring the bookshelf, he leaned back and looked outside the window.

He could see all the way to the edge of the forest. Between the large house and the forest was a maze filled with dying flowers and trees that were losing their leaves. The only green plants left were the fir and pine bushes creating the walls of the maze. Harry gazed out and at one point thought he saw a giant snake slithering along the ground, but pushed it aside as a trick of the eyes.

_This is amazing_, Harry thought, closing his eyes. He had only meant to rest for a couple of minutes, but the next thing he knew, a loud pop startled him from the seat and he fell to the floor. Looking up, Harry was met with the large eyes of another House-elf, different than the one that had greeted him and Harson earlier.

"Master Harry, dinner be ready's sir!" Its voice was slightly deeper than Tamsy's, so Harry assumed it to be male.

"Okay," Harry followed the creature tentatively out of his room. The house-elf led him to a smaller staircase that went down into the kitchen, and then opened the door on the other side of the kitchen for him. The dining room was long and had a high ceiling. The table was made out of the same dark wood as his bedroom furniture, and there was a large crystal chandelier that hung directly above the center of the table. Mr. Riddle was seated at the head of the table, Harson on his right, and a silver- blond haired man with light gray eyes on his left.

"Good to see that you made it, Harry," Mr. Riddle greeted from his seat, not looking up as he continued to cut the meal on his plate. The blond eyed Harry disapprovingly, making Harry stand awkwardly at the other end of the table.

"Oh don't be so uppity, Lucius," Harson smiled and pulled out the chair next to him. "Harry, come sit down."

"Okay." Harry walked over and sat down in pulled out chair. Food appeared on his plate and he stared at it, startled for a moment.

"My Lord, is this the child you spoke of?" Lucius asked Mr. Riddle respectfully.

"Who else would it be?" Mr. Riddle sounded exhausted, as if dealing with the blond was a tiring task. Harry smiled at the comment and began to eat. Well, almost. There were so many forks to choose from that he didn't know which one to use. Grabbing the one closest to the plate, he began to eat. And was promptly stopped by a hand that came out of no-where.

"Honestly, child," Lucius sighed. "Who taught you how to eat?"

"No one, sir." Harry almost laughed at the brief look of disbelief on the blonde's face.

Mr. Riddle stepped in before anyone else could continue, "And that, my dear Lucius, is why I've called you over tonight."

Lucius stared over at the crimson eyed man expectantly while Harry tried to twist his arm out of the blonde's grip. With a sigh, he placed his silverware down continued, "You don't honestly think I'd let my heir enter the wizarding world without any knowledge of its culture, etiquette, and customs, did you, Lucius? By the time he's to attend Hogwarts he is to have learned all you have to teach. I will not have him making a fool of himself in front of his peers. He's to be a perfect pureblood heir by the time he receives his Hogwarts letter."

There was a warning in his red eyes as he finished. Lucius gulped and released his hold on Harry's wrist and sat back down. They continued to eat their meal in silence, and when everyone was done, the plates vanished.

Harson stretched and smiled at Harry, "You like it here?"

"I've hardly even been here for a day," Harry pointed out.

"Ah, that's true." Harson sat up straight and snapped his fingers. A small plate of cake appeared in his hands, "Do you like cake?"

Harry stared at the confectionary for with wide eyes, "I don't know, I've never had any before."

"Never had cake before?!" Harson exclaimed comically. "What kind of child has never had cake before?!"

Harry smiled at Harson's antics. "Can I try some now?"

Harson quickly gave Harry the piece he held. Tentatively, Harry took a bite. It was soft, and really sweet, probably one of the most delicious things he'd ever eaten. Besides the meal he just ate.

"It's good, right?" Harson watched as Harry nodded.

Lucius scoffed, "My lord; please explained to me why this man is here."

"Do you doubt my judgment, Lucius?" Mr. Riddle eyes watched Lucius as if he were about to make a life changing decision.

"Of course not, my lord," he sounded offended by the thought. "I just find it hard to believe that this... Child-like man is of any use to you or our cause."

Mr. Riddle's eyes seemed to stare into Lucius' soul. "Question my judgment again, Lucius, and you will become the one of no use."

"Aww, aren't you two adorable?" Harson cooed, despite the malicious aura coming off Mr. Riddle. The two other men glared at Harson, who seemed immune to their anger.

After a moment, Mr. Riddle turned to address Harry. "Tomorrow we'll be going into Diagon Alley to buy you some new clothes and supplies. My personal tailor will come by early tomorrow morning to get your measurements in order to create you a new wardrobe."

He was about to continue, but a crack sounded from the foyer, muffled by the thick wood of the door. Lucius stood up and hurried out of the room while Mr. Riddle took his time, pausing before he left the room.

"Scorpion, I trust you to make sure young Harry here will find his way back," he stated calmly, despite his irritation towards the blue-eyed man.

Harson leaned back, all good humor gone from his face. "We need to have a little chat, you and I."

"After the meeting." The words were almost lost as Mr. Riddle exited. Harry watched the wooden door, wondering what meeting Mr. Riddle had, and jumped out of his seat when Harson clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon. He'll get upset if I let you stay up and out any longer." Harson got up and walked to the back stairs.

"It's only eight-thirty," Harry said pointedly as he followed Harson. "I've stayed up later at the orphanage."

Harson guffawed, "Did you just sass me?"

Harry shrugged, "I suppose. Only if you took offense to it. And I don't need to go to sleep right away anyway."

The older man chuckled as they walked up the stairs, "Of course you're not going to. We're just going to let the lord of the manor think that you're asleep. You can stay up, so long as you keep your door closed and don't make too much noise."

Harry smiled and when they reached his room, went in thinking, _Harson's nice. I could get along with him_.

"I think you and I are going to have loads of fun together," Harson winked from the door way, leaning against the frame. With a nodded "good night", Harson closed the door and left Harry alone.

-v-v-

Tom waited for every one of his followers to leave before making his way up to his office. Unsurprisingly, Scorpion was waiting for him, a glass of scotch in one hand, his back to Tom, as he leaned against the mantel piece of the fireplace.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Tome droned, pulling out a bottle of wine and a glass.

"Yeah, Riddle, I did," Scorpion replied, sounding calm despite his giveaways. He was agitated. Tom knew by the way his ears had pointed. And, Tom was certain, if Scorpion were to turn around right now, there'd be a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and a forked tongue.

"What about, then? If it's not your horrible alias. I know I told you not to give your real name, but 'Harson'? Surely you could have come up with something better?"

Scorpion turned around and sure enough, the changes had taken place. Even one Tom hadn't expected or even known about; Scorpion's pupils had become slits, like a snake's or cat's eye.

"Harson is a trusted alias that I've used many times, Riddle," Scorpion bit out. Then he sighed, gulped down the scotch in one swig, and smiled good naturedly. "But my choice of name isn't what I wanted to talk about. If you think that I'll be the kid's babysitter, you must really have a death wish, despite your alias."

Tom scoffed, "Are you threatening me, Scorpion?"

The room suddenly became intensely cold, even for Tom, who was used to cold temperatures. "Did you forget how much you owe me? You're lucky to even still be alive. If I were one of my siblings, you'd be dead by now. Tom Riddle would have ceased to exist years ago."

"And yet you continue to keep me alive," Tom smirked. Realizing a way he could win he sat down in his desk chair and watched Scorpion for a sign of defeat as he continued. "Empty threats go nowhere, Scorpion. And while I am grateful for all that you've done, we are under not binding contract. As such, you can leave anytime you wish, but you can't touch me."

The cold receded from the room and Scorpion started laughing. It was a low chuckle at first, but it slowly grew into thunderous peals of laughter that seemed to shake the room. Tom frowned, hardly finding anything funny about what he had just said.

"Oh man, I like you Riddle," Scorpion said as he quieted down with his laughter. He moved to the office door, smiling like a mad man. "Reminds me of why I keep you around. I do enjoy a good game."

He left and Tom scowled.

_Damn that insufferable creature!_ He thought, sipping the wine. His gaze went over to the mantel piece where Scorpion had been standing. The corner was frozen over.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Harry was up early the next day, excitement, curiosity, and worry eating at him as he changed his clothes and went downstairs to the dining room. Both Mr. Riddle and Harson were there already eating.

"Good morning," Mr. Riddle greeted and when he caught sight of Harry's clothes, scowled. "My heir will not be seen like that in public."

"But sir, these are my only-."

"I know," Mr. Riddle placed his fork and knife down as he stopped Harry from finishing. "Come."

Harry would've protested, hungry from getting a look at the food on the table, but feared being sent back to the orphanage more than an empty stomach. At least he could deal with the latter. So he followed Mr. Riddle up the stairs and was surprised to find out that Mr. Riddle's bedroom was the room directly across from his own, but said nothing as he entered after the older man. Mr. Riddle disappeared into a door on the left wall, and from the sounds of clothes rustling, Harry gathered that it was his closet. While he waited for Mr. Riddle to reemerge, Harry stared at the room. It seemed to be the same size as his own. The bed was on the same wall as the closet, and was a lot bigger than Harry's, a king sized by the look of it. The room itself was painted in black with small touches of silver and green, much like the outfit Mr. Riddle was wearing when Harry met him. The floor was carpeted with a thick black carpet, warm compared to Harry's cold wooden floor. There was a large floor to ceiling window on the far wall covered with black and green striped curtains. There was no desk or dresser, but a small sitting area next to several shelves of books and a fireplace.

Harry was about to move and check out the books when Mr. Riddle came out of the closet, clothes hanging off of his arm and shoes in his hand. He placed them down on his bed; a green sweater, black pants and jacket. Once he had them in a position he found acceptable, he pointed a white stick at them. They shrank to a size that looked like they would fit Harry.

"Try these on." Mr. Riddle ordered, returning the white stick to a hidden spot up his sleeve. Harry went over, grabbed them, and looked around for a place to change.

"Go into the closet, if you are incapable of changing in front of me." Mr. Riddle sat down in the arm chair next to the fireplace and waited. Harry gulped and hurried into the closet. In the darkness, he hurriedly changed into the newer clothes, wanting to be in the larger room as soon as possible. When he burst out of the closet as though something was about to eat him, Mr. Riddle just looked at the boy with impatience, but made a soft noise of approval.

"A little big, but they'll do for now," Mr. Riddle appraised and then motioned towards the old clothes in Harry's arms. "Leave those rags on the floor, the house elves will have burned them by the time we get back."

Harry obeyed and followed Mr. Riddle back to the dining room. Harson was missing and there was barely anything left to eat.

"Grab something to hold you over," Mr. Riddle told Harry, grabbing an apple and exiting out the other door. Harry quickly ate some eggs and then left the room with a piece of toast, almost finished, in his mouth.

In the foyer, Harson was in a brighter a brighter mood and he smiled when he saw Harry.

"You're going to get scolded if you leave that piece of bread in your mouth," he teased. Mr. Riddle scoffed and walked out of the manor. Harry finished the toast before following Harson and the crimson eyed man out. Along the path, Harry noticed that some spots in Mr. Riddle's hair had become gray.

"What's he doing?" Harry asked Harson in a whisper.

"Hm?" Harson looked from Harry to Mr. Riddle back to Harry. "He's using glamours to change his appearance."

"Is that a form of magic? Why does he do it?"

"It's magic," Mr. Riddle said from in front of them. "And if you must know, I do it because muggles would find it strange for a sixty year old man to look thirty?"

"He's sensitive about his age," Harson whispered in Harry's ear. The two of them shared a smile and followed Mr. Riddle into the public home.

A thin, body old woman hobbled over to them. Her skin clung to her bones, but was wrinkled and baggy all over. The maid's outfit was loose on her and her eyes looked frosted over.

"Hello master," she addressed Mr. Riddle robotically. "There is a guest to see you."

"Take us to him," Mr. Riddle ordered. The old woman hobbled down the dark hallway, the group of three following her. Once they had entered a small sitting, a short old man, with a receding hair line in a tailored suit, stood up to greet them.

"Mr. Riddle, such a pleasure to see you again," the old man wrung his hands together, a slight sheen of sweat covering his hear. "What may I do for you today?"

Mr. Riddle placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and brought him forward. "He'll need a wardrobe; pants, shirts, ties, and such. Make them similar to mine. You can vary the color though, and I will allow a more modern style for him."

The man nodded. "Of course, of course. Right this way, young Mr. Riddle."

"I'm not a Riddle," Harry said as he walked up to the man.

"Oh, my apologies," the old man pulled out a measuring tape, giving Mr. Riddle and Harry a strange look, and positioned Harry so he was standing in a 't' stance.

"No apology needed," Mr. Riddle droned. "I'm finishing the adoption papers soon, so he'll officially be my heir."

Harry glanced over at the two older men when Mr. Riddle said this. Mr. Riddle watched both Harry and the old tailor carefully while Harson leaned against the doorframe and fiddled with the chain of his locket. Harry almost freaked out, thinking he had forgotten to replace the locket the night before, but then relaxed when he felt it against his chest. The old tailor finished the measurements quickly and stepped back from Harry, allowing the young boy to relax.

"They'll be ready by next week sir," the tailor informed Mr. Riddle.

"That's fine. Deliver them here and you'll get your money. Now be on your way."

The old man picked up his things and got out of the house faster than a bat out of hell in Harry's opinion. Mr. Riddle dismissed the maid and led Harson and Harry out of the pseudo home. Harry tugged on Harson's sleeve and the older man bent down, "What?"

"What did he mean by I'll be a Riddle?" Harry asked. He wasn't afraid to be outgoing around Harson, and therefor he asked Harson the questions he didn't want to ask Mr. Riddle.

"You remember those papers I asked for from the old hag?" Harson asked Harry with a smile. Harry nodded and he continued, "Yeah, well, he plans on adopting you. Guardianship and all. The old man was giving him nasty looks because he thought you were a bastard and that Riddle was only finally taking responsibility for you."

"I don't recall ever hearing my tailor tell you his inner thoughts," Mr. Riddle glowered at two black haired males.

"Ah, but you seem to forget-"

Mr. Riddle cut Harson off, "About the amazing power of you. I'm well aware, and yet I have not experienced this all mighty power for myself. Perhaps it's all just a ruse."

Harson scowled at being cut off, but it was quickly gone when Harry pulled him along after Mr. Riddle, the young boy hiding his nervousness at being around the two older men. Once they were back inside the manor's foyer, Mr. Riddle pulled Harry to his side and without warning Harry felt as though he was being squeezed through a tube. Unable to move, he was surprised when upon opening his eyes, he was in a crowd of people. A myriad of colors swarmed around him from the interesting roves many of the people wore. Harry looked up at Mr. Riddle for something familiar, but only saw a mix of the older version from before and the younger one he was with in the morning.

Mr. Riddle glanced at him with crimson-speckled gray eyes, "Don't dawdle, don't get lost, and do not do anything without my permission."

Harry gulped back his skittishness and nodded, staying as close as he thought he could get to the older man without getting yelled at. He ignored the various magical items that flew about, advertising the nearby stores. Getting pushed and pulled along by the force of the crowd, Harry lost sight of Mr. Riddle more than once, but was always found in the end by a frowning Mr. Riddle.

They finally pulled out of the crowd and into a small store with the sign "Madam Milkin's Robes for All Occasions" hanging above it. A small bell rang, alerting the tenant of the new customers.

"Professor Riddle, what a surprise!" A stout old with dressed in maroon robes appeared from the back of the store. "I would've thought you'd be teaching right now."

"I've taken the day off, Madam," Mr. Riddle informed the witch. He then pushed Harry forward, "He'll need several sets of dress robes and casual robes."

The witch nodded and hurried Harry onto a small platform where she charmed a measuring tape to take measurements for her while she took note of them. She turned to Mr. Riddle and asked, "Anything specific, dear?"

"Make at least two of the dress robes in Slytherin colors. You can make the rest in anything you think will fit him best."

"And when do you want them by?"

"If possible, we can pick them up at six. If that is not an option just owl the robes to my manor when they're ready and send me the bill at Hogwarts."

"At six will do," the old woman smiled and motioned for Harry to get off the platform. Mr. Riddle gave a nod of the head to the witch before leaving with Harry in tow. The streets were just as crowded, but this time Harry stuck so close to Mr. Riddle he was practically part of the older man, and whenever someone knocked into him they received a glare from his guardian.

Their next stop was a large crooked building with the name "Gringotts" in large letters embedded across the building's front. Once inside, Harry marveled at the size of the room they had entered. It was bigger than Mr. Riddle's foyer and had numerous desks lined up in rows. At each desk stood a small, wrinkly creature with pointed ears and sharp teeth. Mr. Riddle walked right up to the largest desk at the back of the room, drawing the attention of the creature at the desk.

"Good morning Mister Riddle," the creature said, it's voice growly and monotone. "What can we do for you today?"

"I need you to check if this child has any vaults," Mr. Riddle ordered, again pushing Harry into the spotlight from where he was safely tucked away next to Mr. Riddle.

"Does he have a key?" The creature asked, eyeing Harry up and down.

"If I had his key, do you think I'd be asking you to check if he has any vaults?"

The creature snorted, "Right this way."

They were led into a small office behind the main room with the words "Blood and vault checking" engraved onto the door with small golden letters.

It was a frugal office, with only the bare minimums of a desk and three chairs within its walls. Harry and Mr. Riddle sat down in the chairs closest to them, Harry sitting straight and tensely while Mr. Riddle simply looked like a king surveying his kingdom.

"Good morning Mister Riddle," another creature entered the room from a door behind the desk. "What can I help you with today?"

"We're wondering if you could possibly help us with this young man's vaults, if he has any." Mr. Riddle's eyes bored into the creature's soul.

The creature gulped, "Of course. Right away."

The creature pulled out a piece of parchment paper and pushed it over to Harry along with a dagger. "A single drop of blood will do."

Mr. Riddle watched through half lidded eyes as Harry tentatively reached out and grabbed the dagger with his right hand and stared at it.

"Hurry up, boy. We don't have all day." Harry tensed at Mr. Riddle's words and then, after taking a deep breath, drew the dagger across the palm of his left hand. Blood dripped down his open palm from the gash and onto the parchment. The drops were absorbed into the paper and began swirling into letters and dates and lines showing his ancestry and next to his name was "Vault 687".

"Well, it must be nice to know your parents left you something," Mr. Riddle stated bluntly. Harry nodded, clenching his fist so the blood would stop dripping.

"Give me that." Mr. Riddle grabbed Harry's hand and hissed something as he waved his own hand over the wound. The open chasm sealed up, ceasing the flow of blood, and in its place was a long pink scar covered in drying blood. Harry examined the scar at a distance before the creature held out a wet cloth to him, its arm shaking. Thanking the creature, Harry took the cloth and wiped his palm and the dagger clean before returning the cloth and weapon to the creature.

"Do you have his key?" The creature asked, its voice trembling slightly.

"Is there a collective sense of illogical thinking among your race, goblin?" Mr. Riddle snarled. "Would I be here if I had Mr. Potter's key?"

The goblin blinked, "No sir."

"So, tell me where his key is, so he can have access to the vault he so obviously has."

"We do not have his key." The goblin gulped when Mr. Riddle sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes at the small creature.

"Retrieve it and bring it to me at once."

"That's impossible, sir." The goblin cowered. "You need to have guardianship over the boy before we can give you his key. Otherwise it is illegal."

Mr. Riddle stood and the goblin shrank further back into his chair. "Does his current wizarding guardian have his key?"

"Yes sir."

There was a pause before Mr. Riddle spoke again. "I want a complete list of all the transactions mad in the past nine years of Mr. Potter's vault on my desk by the end of the week," he told the goblin, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling the boy out of the chair.

"Yes sir," The goblin nodded, too afraid to speak out. Mr. Riddle led Harry out of the bank and back into the streets of Diagon Alley. Harry was released as they began walking down into another, darker alley. It was less lively than Diagon, dreary and the walls grew mold on them. Haggard witches and wizards leaned against the walls and some had even fallen to the dirty street. However, when they all caught sight of Mr. Riddle they immediately pressed themselves into the walls, as if they were trying their hardest to disappear. Harry followed Mr. Riddle into another store with the sign "Belladon-x-Apothecary" hanging faded above it.

The store was full of jars and vials and had an eerie light filling the store. Lined along one wall were cauldrons filled with colored liquids. Harry saw jars of eyes and other animal parts, some that he hadn't even heard of like "fire-crab shell" or "Acromantula venom".

"Don't touch," Mr. Riddle warned when Harry reached out a hand to examine one of the many jars. Harry gulped and pulled his hand away as though the jar had burst into flames.

"Ah, Professor! I was wond'ring when I'd see you 'gain!" A tall, short-green haired man with dark blue eyes came out of the back room.

"You have what I requested?" Mr. Riddle demanded more than he inquired. Harry was beginning to get used to the fact that that was how Mr. Riddle acted towards most everyone.

"Yeah, o'course. Just gimmie a minute." The green haired man turned around and unlocked an old cabinet behind him. It was filled to the brim with labeled vials and small jars. He muttered to himself as he scanned through the items before plucking two off the top-most shelf and turning back around.

"Must say, it was a rather strange order," the man commented, leaning against the counter. "I'm surprised you let me make it. I'd've thought you'd want to be the one to make it."

"How much?" Mr. Riddle asked, picking up the two bottles and placing them in his pocket.

The shopkeeper hummed and caught sight of Harry, "Some hair off the boy."

Mr. Riddle looked over at Harry out of the corner of his eye and then back to the other man, "Harry, come here."

Harry looked over to Mr. Riddle when he heard his name called and walked over. The shopkeeper came around the counter and knelt in front of Harry. "Well aren't you a handsome young man?"

Harry said nothing, but glanced over at Mr. Riddle who was scowling. The shopkeeper smiled and quickly cut off a lock of Harry's hair. Harry winced and placed a hand over the spot where the hair had come from. Mr. Riddle turned Harry around and walked them out of the shop.

"Thanks for doing business!" The green-haired man called out after them, fingering the hair.

They left the smaller alley to head for Diagon Alley and passed a small ice-cream parlour named "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour". Harry stared inside through the window as they passed and caught sight of a familiar head of black hair chomping away at a huge bowl of ice-cream while sitting across from a man with long crimson hair. He stopped short and gaped slightly at the size of the bowl of ice-cream, before Mr. Riddle growled.

"What in Salazar's name is it now?" He looked over at what Harry was staring at and his mood seemed to get worse. The professor went inside the parlour, leaving Harry to hurry in after him.

"Scorpion, what perfect timing." Mr. Riddle stared at the dark haired man, who just smiled at him.

"Oh, hiya Riddle, Harry," Harson greeted them. The crimson haired man, whose hair length rivaled Lucius, turned around and eyed the two wizards.

"Who are they?" He asked Harson, his voice deep and calm.

"Hmm? Those two?" Harson took another bite from his ice-cream, closing his eyes and smiling, "They're friends of mine. No touching."

"Unlike some of us, I adhere to the rules of the game, brother," the crimson haired man snarled at Harson.

"Aww, Adém, don't be like that," Harson pouted. "You know I always play by the rules."

Mr. Riddle cleared his throat, "As touching as that display of brotherly affection was, I need Scorpion to look after Harry here while I go the ministry."

Harson frowned, "Sorry Riddle. No can do."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Riddle sounded as though it was the first time anyone had denied him anything.

"I've got to go help out my baby brother back home. Seems like our big brother, Wrath, is going overboard," Harson explained.

Harry frowned in thought, "Don't you mean your 'big brother's wrath'?"

Harson smiled at Harry, "I meant what I said, kid." He then turned back to Mr. Riddle. "So sorry, you'll have to take Harry with you to the ministry. Don't do anything fun without me."

The two brothers stood as Harson finished the bowl of ice-cream and then left. Mr. Riddle glared into the back of Harson's head and then followed them out. Harry hurried after. Once the young boy had made it back into an arm's reach of Mr. Riddle, the older man grabbed him and he felt the same feeling of being squeezing into a tube and once it was over, he almost threw up.

"Don't stray," Mr. Riddle ordered Harry when he had collected himself. Harry nodded and followed behind Mr. Riddle as the older man went through the halls of the new place they were in. Paper airplanes whizzed overhead in swarms, sometimes splitting off into different directions, and people walked about, but for the most part it was quiet. Eventually they came to a door that read "Department of Social Services". Mr. Riddle went through the threshold without a second thought and right up to the secretary.

"I need to speak with whoever is in charge of wizarding-guardianship over orphaned wizarding children," he told her.

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, not even looking up.

"I'm afraid not, but I'm certain Mister Rusth will have time for me." Mr. Riddle smirked as the secretary's eyes widened and quickly ran to get the aforementioned man.

"Professor, what are you doing here?" The man, average sized with thinning brown hair, asked Mr. Riddle.

"I'm in need of the information as to who has current guardianship over Mr. Harry Potter along with the proper forms for me to gain guardianship over him," Mr. Riddle told him. Mr. Rusth looked over at Harry, his eyes widening slightly.

"Is that James and Lilly's son?" He asked in a whisper to Mr. Riddle.

"I'm afraid so, yes," Mr. Riddle replied.

"Horrible accident that. Poor thing," Mr. Rusth gave Harry a sad smile before turning back to Mr. Riddle. "I can help you get all of that sorted out. He'll have to stay outside though."

Mr. Riddle told Harry to wait here and followed Mr. Rusth into the back office. Harry watched them disappear and then turned towards the secretary. "How long is this going to take?"

She looked down at him and gave a fake smile, "It depends, sweetie. It sounded like someone already has guardianship over you, so it could take a couple hours or a couple of days."

Harry muttered a quiet "I see" and sat back down. He watched as different people came in and out, and with no way to pass the time focused on the making the pieces of paper on the secretary's desk move. It amused him when she was unable to find what she was looking for because he had moved them. At one point, Mr. Riddle came out and took Harry to a small restaurant where they ate lunch before returning the ministry department. When they had come back, there was an old man with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles over blue eyes that sparkled. He wore lime green robes covered in small lemons. It hurt Harry's eyes to look at it.

"Ah, Tom, what a surprise," the man smiled jovially at Mr. Riddle as he spotted them.

"Hello professor," Mr. Riddle greeted the man with a less than happy tone.

"I must say I was certainly surprised to have my guardianship over the young Potter challenged," the old professor chuckled. "But I suppose it makes sense if it's you."

Harry got the sense that there was some old tension between the two wizards and carefully stepped back as they entered the office again. He waited for another hour or two, sometimes hearing a clatter from the inside of the office or a raised voice. Eventually Mr. Rusth came out and asked Harry to come in.

"Now, Harry," Mr. Rusth seemed exhausted as he sat down in his desk chair and offered Harry the remaining chair, "I just need you to answer a few questions."

"All right," Harry replied.

Mr. Rusth dabbed his head and sighed. "Have you been living in the muggle orphanage called 'St. James' for the past nine years?"

"Yes." Harry looked over towards Mr. Riddle and the older professor, noticing that both looked put off, even the smiling old man.

"And have you been punished in extreme ways?"

"What do you consider extreme?"

"Beatings, starvation, isolation and the like."

"I suppose so."

Mr. Rusth nodded and made a note on his paper. "And has Professor Riddle been supporting the orphanage?"

"For as long as I can remember."

"And has he recently taken you into his custody because of the conditions you were under at the orphanage."

"Yes."

There was a silence as Mr. Rusth made more notes. When he was done, he looked back at Harry. "One last question before I let you go. If you had a choice between Professor Riddle and Professor Dumbledore over there, who would you chose?"

"Professor Riddle," Harry said, but frowned. "It seems a bit silly though. Asking me to choose when you all already know I'll be going back with Professor Riddle in the end. And I don't even know Professor Dumbledore, so it's not even a really fair choice. Why even ask?"

"Just procedure, Mister Potter," Mr. Rusth answered. "You can go now."

Harry stood and left the room, taking a seat back outside as he waited for the other three to finish.

* * *

Responses to people I could reply to D:

**Buzzett minion**:

Okay, thanks for the input. I'm gonna try and answer as much of this as I can. 1) I realize Harry is adjusting to well. I had it that way mainly because I figured he'd be a little different growing up in an orphanage than with the Dursely's. That and he's worried that if he speaks out too much he'll get thrown back in the orphanage. I'll try and make him less OOC. It's been years since I've read the books, so I'll be delving back into them every so often to try and fix things. 2) I promise, promise, promise that "Harson" has a really important role to play. Like, huge. By nature he has a tendency to take what he deems is his by right, be sadistic, arrogant, and has the biggest sweet tooth that I've ever seen. I'm going to try and reveal more about him each chapter, but not too much because it isn't about him. He makes a lot more sense in his actual story, and I'll admit, that he's my most comfortable character, 'cause he's been with me for a long time now. 3) I'll try and get to that in the story. Yes, he split his soul, but not as many times as one would think. So he still has some emotions. As for his poor leadership, I'll work on it. I'm still getting used to having two outside characters floating around my head. And this is only the first draft. I can guarantee that at some point, once it's all done, I'll come back and edit the whole thing. It's happened to me before. 4) I never intended for Harson to be a love interest. To be honest, his character is one of a teasing, flirtatious type, and I've had someone suggest he be Tom's love interest, but they clash to much. So to put all at ease, this will eventually be a Harry/Tom or a Tom/Harry (because I don't know what the different sides mean) fic. It's gonna be slow going and with some pushing, because romance is something I really seem to suck at writing, but it will happen.

And don't worry, I hardly ever take anything as flame unless it's just outright rage. I appreciate your input, and I hope you'll continue to read!

That's it really. It summed up everything I was going to say. Well, besides that I'll eventually be writing a side story explaining Harson and Tom's relationship more.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Two months passed since Harry had started living at Riddle Manor. Most of the time he was alone, aside from the house elves, but he didn't mind. Two or three times a week Lucius would stop by and instruct Harry on pureblood etiquette. It only took around four lessons for Harry to learn the basics. After that Lucius visited less often, but lessons became longer and more devoted to practical studies.

By the beginning of December he was a perfect pureblood heir in front of company, which Lucius occasionally brought him to for testing purposes. But now it was getting close to Christmas time. Professor Riddle had sent Harry a black velvet cloak after the first snowfall, along with a pair of leather gloves. It was the first gift Harry had ever gotten.

Currently, Harry was walking through the muggle town outside of Riddle Manor, browsing the shops, trying to think of something he could get the professor to thank him for taking him in. But nothing seemed to be catching his eye.

Harry sighed as he stood outside the old antique store show window.

_Wish I could go back to Diagon Alley. I'm sure I'd find something he'd like in there. _Harry thought as he turned away from the store and headed in the direction of the manor. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and stepped out of the way of anyone who came into his path.

Once inside the manor, a house elf greeted him with a mug of hot coco.

"Did Master Harry find what he was looking for?" The house elf asked as Harry hung up his cloak.

"Now," Harry scowled and took the mug. "Thanks for the coco, Datch."

The house elf smiled as Harry walked up the stairs and into the east wing of the manor.

It was only five o'clock and Harry had planned to start reading the next section of the library. He had found the library on Halloween while lounging around and bored, itching to find something to do. He had literally just run into the door and was surprised to find a full library within the room.

Harry spent most of his time inside, reading the day away when he wasn't needed elsewhere. He'd gone through several history books and fictional stories. Sometimes he ran across a book about spell theory, but it was complicated for him to understand without any basic knowledge of the subject. It was while reading about common forms of wizarding travel that Harry got an idea.

"Tapsy!" He called out for the main house elf, closing the book he was reading. Through watching Lucius, Harry had learned that house elves would come whenever they were called upon.

"Yes, Master Harry?" The house elf asked with a small bow before picking up the empty mug.

"Do we have a floo?" He believed that was the correct term. He'd feel like a fool if it wasn't.

"Of course, this way." Tapsy led him out of the library and into the main foyer. She pointed to the fire place that Harry had never seen used.

"Thank you." Harry walked up to it, noticing a small container with what he assumed to be floo powder. Grabbing a handful, he stepped into the floo and spoke carefully, "Diagon Alley," as he released the powder.

In a flash he felt the same pulling feeling as being side apparated with Lucius. Once the feeling was over he stepped out of the fireplace and into a shabby looking bar. He blinked and took in the sights of the people dressing shabby robes and slouched over a drink or plate of food. Harry brushed off the front of his robes and went over to the bar.

"Excuse me," Harry watched as the bar tender turned around. The man smiled, showing rotting teeth and wrinkled skin.

"What can I do for you son?" The man asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Can you show me the way to Diagon Alley?" Harry noticed how the man's eyes dulled, probably concerned for Harry. He felt a slight prick at this irritate him.

"Aye, this way." The bartender walked around the counter and towards a back room, Harry trailing behind him.

"What're you doing, going into Diagon Alley all by yourself?" He asked Harry as they walked.

Harry glanced at him, trying to judge if he should tell or not, and the man sighed. "Just wondering, is all. It's too late for you to be a new Hogwarts student, so I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I need to get a gift for my guardian," Harry told the bartender the short version, leaving out how he'd been laboring over the task for nearly a week now.

"Ah," the bar tender smiled and stopped in front of a brick wall, "and you don't want him to know?"

"He wouldn't know anyway," Harry said as a wand was tapped against certain bricks. "I just haven't been here without him."

The brick wall twisted away and changed until it formed into an archway. Through the arch was the familiar scene of Diagon Alley. Harry thanked the bar tender and entered the shopping district.

He tried many stores, all well known, but all resulting in Harry coming out empty handed. After walking out of Florish and Blotts with nothing, Harry turned towards Knockturn Alley. Avoiding the grimy witches and wizards that lined the street, he walked along looking for something that might catch his eye. He stopped before the window of a store called Borgin and Burkes. The item that had caused him to stop was a dagger with a blood red jewel in its hilt. He entered the store and went right up to the counter.

"How much for the dagger in the window?" he asked, glancing at the man. He was a lanky man with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Whaddya want a thing like that for?" the man asked, sneering at Harry.

"How much?" Harry repeated, pulling his pouch from his belt.

"What do you need it for?" the man asked again.

"A gift." Harry took out a handful of galleons, "Is this enough?"

The man's eyes flashed with greet and he went over to the shop window. Using his wand, the man levitated the dagger into a box and brought it over to Harry.

"Pleasure doin' business with you," the man smiled as he held out his open hand. Harry dropped the golden coins into the open palm and took the box. Once he hand his hands on the box, Harry left the shop and returned to the bar he came from.

"Find what ya were looking for?" The bartender asked.

"Of course," Harry replied, looking around the floo for some floo powder.

"Here," the bar tender pulled out a bowl filled with the gray-green powder and brought it over to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed at looking like a fool. He grabbed a handful of the powder and stepped into the fireplace, saying clearly, "Riddle Manor".

-v-v-

The bartender stared wide-eyed at the smoke where the young boy had been standing moments before.

"Riddle, huh?" The man let out an amused huff, returning to his post behind the bar. "Wonder when that happened."

-v-v-

When Harry stepped back into the foyer of the manor, an elf was immediately by his side.

"Did master find something?" the elf asked, staring at the box.

"Of course," Harry smiled, removing his cloak and looking at the clock on the wall. "Will dinner be ready soon?"

"In fifteen minutes, master," the elf said as it took Harry's cloak. Harry nodded absentmindedly and started walking up the staircase, clutching the box to his chest.

"What is that, boy?" One of the paintings asked him as he walked up. Harry looked over at the painting. It was one of the professor's ancestors, he knew that much.

"It's a gift for Professor Riddle, sir," Harry told the portrait, stopping so he could talk. "For taking me in and everything else."

The portrait huffed, "Good to see you've got some manners in you. I was beginning to doubt that Malfoy's work."

"Thank you, sir..." Harry tried to remember the name of the man in the picture.

"It's Salazar, boy," the portrait informed him, knowing that Harry didn't remember. "Do try it in mind."

"Sorry sir," Harry bowed his head as he apologized, hugging the box a little closer to the chest.

"No apology necessary. I know how hard it is for someone like you to keep things like paintings in mind."

Harry snapped his head back up, glaring at the portrait. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

Salazar smiled wickedly, "Just letting you know that we do enjoy a conversation every now and then. No need to get offended, boy."

"Oh." Harry stared blankly at the man. There was a silence between them.

"You won't tell Professor Riddle, will you?" Harry asked Salazar.

"About what, child?"

"The gift."

Salazar seemed to be in thought for a minute then spoke. "Only if you promise to speak to me every day."

Harry mulled it over and nodded. "Agreed. Have a nice day sir."

Smiling a goodbye, Harry walked through the halls and into his room. He placed the box on his desk and carefully lifted the lid off the box. The dagger was resting in foam like casing, the blade reflecting the light of his room. He noticed then that there were markings on the blade, running down the center of it.

He was about to lift it to inspect further when a tapping came at his window. Looking up, he saw a large, sleek black bird. It tapped again, its eyes watching Harry. He reached over and opened the window. The bird hopped onto the window seat and cawed at Harry, lifting up its leg. Attached was an envelope, Harry's name scrawled across it in an elegant handwriting and dark green ink. As soon as he had the envelope off, the bird took off out the open window and into the distance.

After the encounter, Harry stared at the spot the bird had previously been in, a little shocked that the bird would just take off. Shaking his head, he turned the envelope over in his hands and opened it, forgetting all about the dagger on his desk.

'_Harry, _

_I will not be coming home for the remainder of the holiday break. My presence is needed elsewhere. I trust that you won't destroy the manor in the meantime. Lucius tells me that your lessons have been going well. It better be so._

_We may see each other at the Malfoy's Yuletide ball, but more than likely not, as I will be otherwise engaged with many of the guests attending. _

_In the meantime, I would like you to read the following: History of magic; England, Magic Rituals, and Basic Runes. They should be in the library. I do believe you've found it at this point. Merlin help you if you haven't. _

_Do try and impress me next time we do see each other.'_

The letter ended there. Harry frowned at it, reread it, and then walked to the library, letter in hand. He sifted through the shelves, looking for the titles in the letter. He hadn't found any of the books when an elf came to tell him dinner was ready.

"Thanks." Harry began heading down then stopped, turning to face the elf again. He stared at the elf and sighed, "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course, young master!" The elf seemed so excited to have been asked.

Harry quickly scrawled out the titles and handed them to the elf, "Find these books for me." He was about to leave again when he remembered the box on his desk.

"Can you get to where the professor is?"

The elf looked up at Harry, "Master Riddle? I can get to him."

"Good. There's a box on my desk. Can you bring it to him? It's a gift."

"Of course!" The elf beamed. Harry nodded and finally made his way to dinner.

-v-v-

Tom was looking over essays from his sixth years in his office when a sudden pop sounded. He didn't bother to look up, knowing it was one of the elves from the manor. The boy, Harry, must've gotten the letter, and Aeolus must've left immediately after the envelope was removed from his leg. The raven never waited for a reply unless he told it to.

"What is it?" Tom addressed the house elf, knowing it'd be itching to get the message out. He looked up from the paper he was grading when a box was placed on his desk.

"What is this?" He demanded of the elf, harsher than needed.

"From Master Harry, sir," the elf replied, baking away a fraction. "He says it's a gift."

Tom quickly ran through a list of any upcoming holidays. The first one that came to mind was his birthday, but he immediately ruled it out as the boy had no knowledge of it. It would have to be Christmas, as the boy also didn't know about Yuletide celebrations.

"Leave." He ordered the elf. Once the creature was gone he waved the box over to him. Lifting the lid, he stared at the contents of the box.

It was a finely crafted dagger, by the looks of it. The last inch or so of the blade was jagged and embedded into the hilt was a blood red jewel. He also took notice of the markings along the center of the blade, making a mental note to find out what they meant.

Tom smirked. At least the boy seemed to have a fine taste in gifts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: slightly gore-y. Have fun. **

Six

Tom had dressed in blood red and black robes for the yuletide ball, all his glamours dropped so he was his normal red eyed and young looking self. He had arrived at the Malfoy Manor earlier than the rest of the guests coming, as the majority of the guest would be his followers. The reason for him arriving earlier was because he'd called a meeting of the inner circle. It would be more like watching puppies striving to get their owner's attention and love.

"My Lord," Lucius greeted, on one knee, as Tom strode in through the front doors of Malfoy manor. The lavish home was decorated in whites and greens; flags on the walls, ice sculptures and food decorating the tables, and garlands along the railings and in archways over the doors.

"You may stand, Lucius," Tom said as he walked past, heading to the back of the manor where the patio and outermost room lay. It would be were the death eaters would be gathering tonight. The inside room was lay out like a large seating area, with tables of food a drink on the far wall. It was dimly lit and had several warming charms on it. Tom ignored it in favor of the outside patio area.

The patio was covered with a large black tent, candles enchanted to hover on the inside but not burn. There was one long table with food, closest to the door and another table with a black throne at the head of it, overlooking the rest of the patio area. It was long and large enough to seat his inner circle members.

"A wonderful job as usual, Lucius," Tom commented, running his hand along the dark wood of the table.

"Thank you, my lord," Lucius kept his head bowed. "My wife, Narcissa, has a wonderful touch."

"Mm, yes. I suppose she does," Tom drawled. "Tell me, how was the child the last time you saw him?"

Lucius looked up at the mention of Harry. "I haven't seen him for a week or two, my lord. The last time we spoke was at his last lesson," he admitted. "Is something the matter?"

"No. Everything's fine," Tom smiled softly, though his eyes burned, as he sat down in the wooden throne.

"The inner circle will be arriving shortly," Lucius informed him.

Tom nodded, lost in thought. "I'll be waiting."

-v-v-

Harry frowned at the two sets of dress robes out on his bed. He had no idea how they were supposed to go on. Lucius had never instructed him on wizarding attire, and he'd never had the occasion to learn how to wear the things before. The only upside about this entire party was that he had actually managed to read two out of three of the books the Professor had assigned him. Tapsy popped into the room, slightly worried, "Master Harry, it is almost time for you to go!"

"I know!" Harry snapped, angry that he was unable to figure out the complicated fabrics. The mirror cracked.

Tapsy whimpered, afraid that Harry was upset with her. Sighing, he grabbed the simpler looking of the two robes, a green and silver one with touches of white. He put it on to the best of his abilities and stormed past Tapsy to go to the main foyer. He would have to focus on something to calm down. The thought of the Professor thanking him for the gift, however unlikely it seemed, calmed him down instantly. Reaching the floor, Harry grabbed some of the powder and stepped in, shouting "Malfoy Manor!"

After the sickening twists and turns of being flooed ended, Harry found himself in the overly decorated foyer of Malfoy manor. A clock on the wall chimed seven. He was on time, going by the time Mr. Malfoy had given him, but by the sounds of chattering coming from behind the closed doors he was late. Significantly late.

The door leading to the main hall opened and Lucius came out with a boy about Harry's age next to him.

"Evening, Harry," Lucius greeted.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Harry bowed slightly before straightening. "I apologize if I have arrived late."

"No worries. Everyone else had to come for a prior event," Lucius waved it off. He placed a hand on the boy next to him, "My son, Draco, will show you to the younger party."

With that the older Malfoy turned and went back into the noise of the party. Draco gave Harry a scrutinizing gaze before extending a hand. "Draco Malfoy."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry replied, taking the other boy's hand. "Harry Potter."

Draco seemed slightly shocked to hear that, but quickly covered it by leading Harry into the large hall, and then into a smaller room. The room was smaller than the hall, and significantly less crowded, with groups of kids standing around or sitting and talking. As soon as Harry and Draco entered, the cloak of noise stopped and everyone turned to look at the new comer. After a second of silent judging, they went back to their conversations.

"You can stick with me," Draco said to Harry and walked over the back of the room where a group of six kids about their age sat, making conversation.

"Draco, is this what your father had called you out for?" A girl with short brown hair and light green eyes asked with a smirk, eying Harry up and down.

"Oh don't be so mean, Pansy," another girl, with black wavy hair and blue eyes scolded. "Just because his robe's a little skew doesn't mean he's bad company."

The two girls snickered into their hands and Harry felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration through him. Looking at the others in the group, he found them to be all male. One dark skinned boy with black eyes, two rather large boys, and another boy with glasses and his nose in a book.

"Crabbe, Goyle, move over," Draco ordered the two larger boys. They instantly did as told and he motioned for Harry to sit while he took a seat across from him. "And Pansy, yes. Harry here is who my father asked me to get."

The girl named Pansy smirked and extended her hand to Harry, "Hello Harry, I'm Pansy Parkinson."

Grudgingly he accepted the handshake. "Pleasure's all mine, Miss Parkinson."

The other girl smiled. "Well Harry, you've got to have a last name? It can't just be Harry."

"It's not Miss...?" Harry addressed her, leaving all thoughts of frustration at her earlier comment in the back of his mind.

"Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass," She told him, with a small flip of her hair. "And don't worry about the robes. It's probably from coming by floo."

"Thank you, Miss Greengrass," Harry smiled. "And my last name is Potter."

The group went stiff for a second, and then the dark skinned boy spoke up, "Any relation to James and Lilly Potter?"

"Who?" Harry asked, tilting his head a little as he stared at the dark boy.

"They were the last of the Potter's," Draco explained. "It's just a bit surprising that you share their last name."

"Were? Did they die?"

The boy with the book looked up, "In an accident, years ago. People still talk about it. Blaise says they had a son, right?" The dark boy nodded.

Harry frowned slightly, mulling over the new information. The conversation was dropped in favor for the upcoming year and when everyone would be receiving their Hogwarts letters.

After what felt like hours of just sitting around a chatting, Harry finally grew board of talking. The girls had begun talking about different fashions while the guys were talking about a sport called quidditch. From what they were saying, Harry wasn't sure if he'd like it or not.

Finally bored of sitting around, he stood up and straightened out his roves.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Daphne asked as soon as he started to walk.

"I want to say hello to my guardian," Harry explained.

"If he's with my father, I wouldn't suggest it," Draco commented, trying to make a warning sound nonchalant.

"I'll be fine," Harry scowled, being stubborn about the issue.

"If you insist." "You're funeral."

"Have a nice evening," Harry said pointedly, turning on his heel and walking away from the group. After making his way into the main hall, Harry weaved through the guests, the majority of them women, until he reached a door on the far side. He was about to enter when a hand grabbed the back collar of his robes and pulled him back.

"Look at this!" A voice scoffed. "Brat thinks he can just waltz in on the Dark Lord's private party!"

Harry looked up at his captor. The man was big and slightly frightening. His partner was no different.

"We should make an example of him to the Dark Lord," the other one suggested with a malicious smirk. "We'd be sure to get praise then!"

Before Harry could even protest he was being shoved through the room behind the doors and outside onto a patio area. He didn't get a chance to see anything else as he was thrown to the ground.

"My Lord!" The first captor exclaimed. "We caught this brat trying to sneak in. And as such, we'll be sure to punish him well."

Harry looked up to see who the man was addressing and saw none other than Professor Riddle. He was about to ask for help, when something hit him in his back, sending pain to every part of his body. To stop any scream in its tracks, Harry bit his lower lip until he could feel blood trickling down the side of his mouth and onto his tongue.

"Damn brat," the attacker hissed, picking Harry up by his hair. He proceeded to kick Harry in the ribs, sending the boy flying back. The same excruciating pain hit him before he was able to steady himself. Once it subsided, Harry looked up at the Professor, and made eye contact. In those two seconds, he knew that the Professor was not going to help him. Harry was on his own for this one, completely defenseless. Exactly the way he had been in the orphanage. Except the orphanage wasn't nearly as bad as whatever he was being hit with.

The pain came again. Harry was starting to lose his vision, but he could hear laughter from all around. At one point, his torturer came up to him and grabbed him by his chin, forcing Harry to look him in the face.

He was so _angry_ at himself. Why couldn't he just make the man go away, like he had for all of his tormenters at the orphanage?

Harry was shaking with anger at himself and his captor. He glared at the man and instantly felt something warm and squishy in his hands. It was oozing a warm liquid that felt kind of like a syrup as it dripped through his fingers and down his arms. Harry was tempted to bite it, as his vision was failing him, but refrained at the sudden silence.

The silence seemed to last for hours, maybe even days. Until Harry could hear footsteps walking towards him and felt hands placed on his shoulders. Whoever it was bent down and whispered into Harry's ear, "Good work, child."

Harry nodded numbly at Professor Riddle's praise, before promptly collapsing with exhaustion.

-v-v-

The sounds of struggle coming from the inside room was what alerted Tom that someone had tried to come in. When the two guards came in, pushing a small boy to the ground, it didn't surprise him in the least.

The grunt that had been pushing the child proclaimed that he would punish him for Tom. It was standard for the grunts to try and win his favor through such blunt displays of violence. The cruciatus was fired at the boy, but he bit his lip bloody instead of letting a scream out.

After the first round, the grunt kicked the boy in the ribs. After another cruciatus, the boy looked up at Tom, a pleading look in his eyes for a split second before Harry's look turned vacant. Tom had to hold back from smirking at the look of emptiness on the boy's face.

The grunt grabbed his chin and asked him if he would plead and beg for forgiveness. The boy looked at him vacantly and the grunt laughed.

And then he chocked, coughing up blood as the same thick red liquid began to seep through his black robes and drip by his feet. It pooled at his feet after only a couple of seconds. His face turned white and he collapsed back, revealing the boy.

Harry's face was covered in splatters of blood, from his chin to his crown, and it even dripped onto this green and silver robes. Blood ran down his arms from his hands. In his hands was a still beating heart, and with each beat came a spout of blood. The death eaters that had been laughing uproariously went dead silent at the sight of a ten year old boy with a grown man's beating heart in his hands.

Tom stood and made his way over to Harry, his footsteps the only sound as he crossed the stone floor of the patio. The pool of blood was covering the boy's knees, blood seeping into the green fabric as he knelt there, dazed. Placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, Tom knelt down and whispered, "Good work, child."

Harry collapsed into him as soon as he was done talking, the boy's pulse faint. Tom looked up at his followers with a smirk, "It seems my charge was significantly underestimated by that guard. I should hope no one makes that mistake again."

Tom took the heart out of the boy's hands and motioned for Lucius to come over. "Yes, my lord?"

"Take him up to a room. I'll bring him back to the manor after the gifting ceremony." Tom ordered, making sure the boy wasn't going to fall into the blood of the fallen grunt.

Once Lucius had carried the child out, Tom turned towards his followers and held up the heart. "We have our gift."

-v-v-

Harry spent the days after the Yuletide ball in the library of the manor. He didn't come out except to use the bathroom. Eating and sleeping had become unnecessary, and even when the house-elves tried to get him to eat, he never touched anything. Often time's elves would find him collapsed next to a stack of books in a dark corner of the library. He was trying to use the books to shove the broken memories from the forefront of his mind into nonexistence. It was an attempt that continued to bring back memories from the orphanage. He turned the page of the book and the lights flickered.

An elf found him asleep in the darkest corner of the library and brought him back to his room.

-v-v-

Tom landed gracefully in his manor foyer at twelve-midnight. It was officially January 1st of 1991. He had taken the evening off and away from Hogwarts because of a party hosted by a ministry official. Hogwarts would have Dumbledore in it, and Tom was, frankly, to cranky to deal with anything other than a mellow ten year old. He made his way up to his bedroom and undressed, crawling into the bed with nothing but his boxers on.

An hour had passed at most when Tom was rudely awakened by shouts and screams from across the hall. Turning, he cast a muffling spell at the door, making it so he wouldn't hear the noises. It worked for a good five minutes before the level of screaming increased and Tom heard something shatter.

Cursing and hissing, Tom summoned a bathrobe and walked over to the boy's door. He entered the younger's bedroom, fully prepared to hex the boy awake, only to find a house elf already trying to shake the boy awake.

"Master Riddle!" It peeped when it saw him. The small vase that had been on the night table was in pieces and Harry was thrashing about as he screamed.

"Move aside," Tom ordered the elf. He grabbed both of Harry's wrists in one hand and forced them down while placing his free hand over the boy's eyes.

_"Sleep,"_ he hissed, infusing the word with magic. It succeeded in its meant task, making the boy calm down, but Tom had the feeling it wouldn't last for long. He called for the head house elf.

"Yes, Master Riddle?" The house elf asked, staring at him and then at Harry worriedly.

"How long has it been going on?" He asked, motioning towards the child.

"Since he arrived, sir."

Tom frowned, "Did you never think to give him a calming drought?"

"We've tried, sir. But they wear off and then he never wakes up." The house elf looked down, wringing the bottom of its dress. A small whimper came from the boy, and both the house elves looked at him with worry. Tom wasn't going to get any sleep if he didn't fix this problem.

When the noises got louder, Tom grabbed the boy and held him. He remembered from the orphanage that when one of the smaller brats would have nightmares, they'd run to someone they felt safe with. Thankfully it was never Tom. But he didn't know if it would work with the night terrors that the boy in his arms was having. If it didn't, he'd just muzzle him and return to his room after casting silencing charms on the boy's room.

However, the human contact did seem to calm the boy down. His screams died down into small whimpers, and he stopped thrashing about. The house elves, seeing that Tom had it under control, left the two of them alone.

After the boy had calmed down enough, Tom figured it would be a bad idea if he just left, so he fell asleep right next to the boy, not caring if it frightened the boy in the morning.

-v-v-

Harry woke up in the morning only to find another body pressed up against his back. He stiffened and tried to work his way out of the grip the person had him in.

"Move again within the next five minutes, child, and I will hex you," Professor Riddle's voice growled tiredly. Harry stopped moving instantly and waited for the Professor to get up. When the older man finally did get up, he told Harry to get dressed and come down for breakfast as he left the room. Harry did as told, if taking the steps a little slower than usual. After eating, Harry waited for Professor Riddle to say something, knowing he wouldn't be able to ask why the Professor was in his bed. After what felt like forever, the Professor finally spoke.

"You will learn how to cast privacy charms," he said to Harry. "I'll have an elf monitor you and report back to me weekly on your progress. Also, you will find some way to deal with those night terrors of yours. I don't care if you are the only one in the manor; make the solution routine, so that something like this will never happen again."

Harry looked down out of surprise and shame. He had no idea that he was still having night terrors. The matron had told him they had stopped.

"Yes sir," he replied, looking up as the Professor stood up and pushed his chair in.

"Good. I'll see you at the end of the school year." With that, Professor Riddle left Harry in a shocked silence.

* * *

Hoped everyone enjoyed that literal heart wrenching scene. Now I'll explain the New Year's scene. I've been planning it for a while, and people have been saying that they think Harry adjusted too well. So, this is me showing that he's not. His subconscious is definitely not okay with the whole thing.

And don't expect a fast update like this one. I just really wanted to write that gore-y scene.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

It was the last day of school and all of the students were buzzing with the excitement of the summer vacation that was just around the corner. Tom was sitting at the staff table as Dumbledore gave the end of year speech, naming Slytherin the winner of the house cups. He applauded with a smug smile, expecting nothing less from his snakes.

After the feast, Tom returned to his office, gathering a few "Have a nice summer, professor" 's along the way from passing students in the halls. Once inside his office, Tom was mildly surprised to see Scorpion in his desk chair, feet up and spinning a quill between his fingers, "Evening professor."

"Haven't seen you around, Scorpion," Tom replied, waving his wand over his bookshelf and transporting the numerous volumes into one of the open trunks. "What do you want?"

"Can't an old friend come by and say hi?" Scorpion smiled, petting the quill now. He pulled his feet down and watched as Tom cleared the shelves of his office, moving stacks of books into the trunk. "I was wondering if you were going to do anything over your summer break."

"Of course. I plan on instructing my charge and forwarding my plans in the ministry," Tom locked the trunk filled with books and turned to the other side of his office, which was decorated in artifacts he had collected over the years. He didn't miss the nod of approval that Scorpion had given to his plans.

"How's the boy?" Scorpion was trying desperately now to make conversation.

"You know how he is," Tom cleared the majority of the artifacts into the new trunk; the dagger said boy had given him still resting on its own stand along with some other artifacts.

Scorpion sighed and leaned back in the chair, "You know I like hearing it from people. Just because I already know doesn't change that I like hearing it."

Tom could feel his annoyance with the other man growing. "He's been working on controlling night terrors. So far he's been able to make a decent privacy charm that won't break when he sends out accidental magic. He's also been practicing spells that I've assigned him and has been keeping up contact with many of the pureblood children his age."

Scorpion hummed, his eyes following Tom as the professor went to clear the rest of the artifacts. "Where'd you get that dagger?"

Tom looked from the dagger, still on its stand, to Scorpion. "It was a gift, from the child."

"Get rid of it," Scorpion ordered, standing from the chair. "Throw it into a bottomless pit and never look back." After walking across the small office to the exit, he asked, "You haven't used it, have you?"

"To do what, intimidate a student?" Tom replied sarcastically. "I haven't had reason to use it yet, but you're beginning to give me one. Why should I rid myself of it?"

"Because I said so," Scorpion reached for the door handle but Tom grabbed his wrist before he could even react.

"What aren't you telling me, old friend?" Tom snarled out, the last two words dripping in sarcasm.

Scorpion smirked as he regarded Tom, "Loads of stuff. You know that."

Tom growled and slammed Scorpion against a wall, pressing his arm against the black haired man's throat. "Tell me what you know of that dagger."

Scorpion sighed dramatically an eye roll included and pushed Tom off of him. "I don't wanna."

"I have spent the past six months trying to decipher the language on that blade," Tom's magic grew and Scorpion took a hesitant step back, hitting the wall again. "And you come in here and give away that you know the thing?!"

"Alright! Alright!" Scorpion held up his hands in defeat. "No need to go bite my head off with your magic."

He walked over to the dagger and took it off the sand, twirling it by the hilt.

"Valvth sa isam fer moveten lun treta filnethvs1," Scorpion said, his voice heavily accented as he spoke in the strange language.

"Helpful, Scorpion," Tom scowled. "A whole lot of good a load of gibberish is going to do me."

"Pitsanney, si rilan2," Scorpion smirked, stabbing the dagger into the wood of Tom's desk. "It means 'Bathe me in the blood of your enemies', because you asked so nicely."

"Don't give me attitude," Tom ignored the use of the language. "How do you know the blade?"

"It's my brother's... Well, it was my brother's. And its name is Movitalir3," Scorpion sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. "I'd go into its history, but that's not really important."

"So what is important?"

"You wizards consider it a dark artifact with a curse. It's not the case. The blade is meant for my kind only. Any human that uses it gets blood lusty, paranoid, and incredibly angry," Scorpion explained with a shrug. "As amusing as that can be sometimes, I'd rather it not happen to someone I have invested in."

Tom sat in his chair and though for a moment. "Why would you tell me this?"

Scorpion shrugged again, "Same reason I do anything pertaining to you."

Tom stood and magicked the rest of the items, dagger included, into the still open trunk, "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure. The usual place?"

"Yes."

Scorpion stood and gave Tom a nod of a goodbye before leaving.

-v-v-

It was about a month into the summer vacation by July 28th. Professor Riddle was holed up in his office most days, and nights he spent in the west wing of the manor, where Harry wasn't allowed to go. Harry would've felt completely alone if it weren't for the two hours each day that was spent instructing Harry on certain spells and other basic information that the professor felt was necessary for Harry to know. Harry also opened up more as the days went by, partly due to the fact that the professor had declared that dinner was a time that Harry could ask or speak about anything he wanted, and the professor would always reply. Occasionally they would end up in a discussion or a debate, with the professor always changing Harry's mind, but most of the time it was just Harry asking the professor to clarify something that he didn't understand.

The professor also seemed pleased that Harry had managed to diminish his night terrors and they now only occurred once every couple of weeks. All in all, their relationship was very stable and much better than it had been when they had first met.

That's why it surprised Harry when the professor disappeared in the middle of their lesson. Well, he didn't really disappear, but he hadn't come back yet. Dinner came and went and still the professor hadn't returned. Two days passed and it was July 30th. Harry had retreated back into the library to continue his study on the topic that had been assigned two days prior while trying to keep his mind away from the unreasonable fears that the professor had abandoned him.

At dinner on the 30th, the dining room doors burst open and Professor Riddle walked in, looked exhausted.

"I apologize for my absence," he state as he sat down in his seat, not sounding apologetic at all. "Something urgent came up."

Harry simply nodded and went back to eating in silence. The two sat and ate in silence until a black owl and in and perched on the chair next to the professor. Retaining a sigh, the professor excused himself and took the owl out of the dining room.

Harry finished his dinner and went back upstairs. Walking past the professor's office door, he heard a series of hisses. The hissing sent chills down his pine and he was about to hurry past when a voice called out, "A word, child."

Harry turned and entered the office, "Yes sir?"

The professor was at his desk, scrawling on a parchment, the owl nearby. "Your birthday is tomorrow, is it not?"

Harry frowned momentarily, having hoped that day in particular would be forgotten, "It is."

"Anything you want?" The professor never looked up from his work.

"No sir." Harry watched carefully as that professor put his quill back into the ink well.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded and the professor dismissed him. Once he was back in his room, Harry went to the window seat and picked one book at random off the shelf, opening to the first page. He fell asleep reading a story about demons and angels fighting for human souls.

The next day was normal up until lunch. While Harry was eating with the professor, a large brown barn owl swooped in from the open window.

"That'll be your Hogwarts letter," the professor noted bored-ly, letting the owl land next to him. He summoned a quill and parchment to write a quick reply after he had taken the letter from the owl. It took off with the reply in its beak.

"We'll go get your supplies after lunch," he said to Harry. Soon after the doors opened and Harson waltzed in, looking incredibly pleased.

"Hello Harson," Harry greeted him, a little enthusiastically. The last time he had seen Harson had been the previous October, when he had first gone to Diagon Alley. Professor Riddle rolled his eyes as the blue eyed man walked up to Harry, his hands behind his back.

"Hello Harry," Harson smiled. "I heard that it's your birthday today." He put a small square box on the table next to Harry's plate.

"What is it?" Harry asked, staring at the small box as though it was hexed.

Harson laughed, sitting down next to Harry, "Open it up and you'll find out!"

"Do it quickly. We still have to go purchase your school supplies, and depending on the amount of people out, it might take the rest of the day," Professor Riddle reminded Harry.

Hesitantly, Harry took the black bow off the blue and silver box as gently as he could manage. He then lifted the lid to reveal a silver pocket watch with an intricate design on the lid, looking like a bunch of snakes intertwined and eating each other. When Harry opened it, he saw symbols engraved around the edge of the back of the lid.

"What do they mean?" Harry asked Harson, looking up at him with curious eyes.

"What, no thank you?" Harson smirked, laughing when Harry blushed and looked as though he'd been caught stealing. "Don't worry about the actual words. They're for protection. Keep it on you at all times."

Harry smiled and mumbled a quick thank you to Harson before trying to figure out how to put the pocket watch on. After a few minutes of watching the boy fumble around, Harson took it from Harry and motioned for him to stand.

The professor watched as Harson attached the pocket watch properly, placing it inside Harry's pants pocket. "I do hop there aren't any hidden surprises with the gift."

Harson frowned, as if offended, and straightened out Harry's shirt and hair. "You think I'd do something like that?"

"To meet your own means, yes," Professor Riddle replied, standing from his seat.

Harson scowled at the professor's words, his hand tightening on Harry's shoulder, making the younger cringe.

"Harson..." Harry whimpered out, his voice barely audible. The professor's eyes flashed through the glamours as he glanced over at the two black haired males. Harson quickly released his grip on Harry, a look of guilt briefly passing over his face before he began to walk out.

"You're not staying?" Harry asked, disheartened that the man who he'd gotten along well with would be leaving so soon.

Harson smiled, turned around, and knelt down in front of Harry. "Don't worry kiddo. I'll be back. And I'll bring lots of cake to celebrate your big day with."

Harry nodded with a smile and waved goodbye as Harson left. The professor sighed and, after grabbing Harry's shoulder, apparated them away to Diagon Alley.

They landed in the middle of the busy central street, Harry immediately getting knocked into the professor by a passing by wizard. The professor ignored the small mass clinging to him and looked over the list of supplies.

"I already have all the books you'll need, so we can skip Florish and Blotts, and I'm certain I have spare cauldron, scales, and telescope in my labs," Professor Riddle said as he scanned the list. "That leaves the apothecary, wand, and robes."

The older man immediately whisked away in the direction of Madam Milkin's, Harry having to jog to keep up with the professor's longer stride. Once inside the store, Harry was subjected to the same pulling and tugging as he remembered as the owner measured him.

"The robes will be done later, so you can come back once you're done shopping," the witch informed the both of them. Professor Riddle thanked her and left almost as quickly as he arrived. Harry trailed after him to the apothecary, which was further down, and then just gave up trying to keep up on the way to the wand store. He ended up stopping just outside of a store called "Eyelop's Owl Emporium". Inside and out were all manner of cages containing all different types of owl's that Harry could even think of. One, snowy white barn owl in particular called out to him. It hooted as he drew near, causing Harry to smile. He was about to reach out a hand to it when Professor Riddle's voice spoke from behind him.

"You seem to forget that we have an agenda here, child," the professor drawled. Harry closed his eyes and held back a sigh before turning to apologize to his guardian. He never got the chance because the professor was already hurrying him to another shop called "Ollivander's".

The inside of the shop was cluttered and dusty, shelves as high as the ceiling stacked and filled with boxes. A clatter was heard from the back and an old man with silver eyes and thinning hair came out from the back of the shop. At the same time, Lucius and Draco Malfoy entered from behind the professor and Harry.

"Oh my, what an eventful day," the old man smiled at the four. "How can I help you?"

The professor pushed Harry forward slightly, "The only way you can, Mister Ollivander, a wand for my charge. I trust you can help him while I run a quick errand."

With that said, the professor promptly left, only giving Mister Malfoy a quick nod in greeting.

"Same as always, that Tom," Ollivander smiled, turning to Lucius and Draco. "And the same for the young Draco, I presume?"

"Of course," Lucius stated. Olivander nodded and waved the two boys over.

"Wand arms out," he asked them. Harry hadn't the faintest idea which arm that was for him, but went with his right, as it was his dominant arm. Ollivander took out a measuring tape and gave a quick speech about how each wand was unique and no two were alike as he went to the rickety shelves, returning with two boxes and placing them on the counter at the front of the shop.

"Ten inches, hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core," the old man took the lid off of one of the boxes and handed the wand inside to Draco. "Just give it a swish."

Instantly, sparks fizzed out, and Draco smiled along with the wand maker. "Yes, that's good. Seems I haven't lost my touch just yet," Ollivander said, accepting the galleons from Lucius, and then handed Harry the other wand. "And for you a beech-wood and dragon heartstring, nine inches."

Harry copied Draco's movement and was shocked to find it snatched out of his hand by the old man. The two Malfoy men raised an eyebrow each at the shopkeeper's behavior, but stayed to watched over Harry for the professor.

"No, no, that won't do," Ollivander muttered to himself as he returned to the shelves. After a few moments and some boxes crashing to the ground, Ollivander returned with two more wand boxes. Harry felt ridiculous as each wand was almost immediately snatched out of his hands. This continued until the professor came back, which startled both Harry and Ollivander.

"Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches?" The old wizard asked Professor Riddle.

"And it is still serving me well to this day," the professor replied, setting down a package on one of the chairs. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem... But I wonder..." The wand maker rushed off again, making Harry wonder as to how someone who looked that old could have so much energy. Once again Ollivander returned, but only with one box this time. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

As soon as Harry grasped it, he felt comfortable, like he was back in the manor by the fireplace in the professor's office, where he often had lessons. He gave it a swish and marveled as sparks flew out, much like Draco's own had.

"Yes, why hadn't I thought of that before?" Ollivander laughed to himself. Professor Riddle eyed Harry's wand curiously before handing the galleons required to Ollivander.

"Thank you for your help," Harry smiled politely to the old man.

"No, thank you for being such an interesting customer," the old man replied. Ollivander smiled and waved as the four left the shop. Once outside, Harry hung back with Draco as Lucius and Professor Riddle began to talk.

"How have things been with you?" Draco asked Harry. "I got your last letter, by the way. Just haven't had a chance to reply."

"That's fine," Harry waved it off. "I don't really mind. It's just nice to have someone other than the professor to talk to."

Draco stared at Harry as they walked. "I can't believe you're saying that. I was shocked to find out he was your guardian!"

Harry snorted, "And you still won't tell me why."

"No offence, but I don't exactly fancy my tongue getting ripped out," Draco replied. "And where'd you get that pocket watch?"

Harry looked down at his gift and smiled. "Harson gave it to me." At Draco's look of confusion he added, "He's a business partner of the professor's. He's really nice and I haven't seen him since October."

Draco rolled his eyes, and was about to reply when his father called him over. "I'll see you at the beginning of the school year, then."

"Yeah, bye," Harry replied, watching as Draco walked up to his father and then apparated away.

Professor Riddle stood by his side. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes as the feeling of being squeezed came upon him. Once the feeling passed, he opened his eyes to the foyer of the manor and sighed in relief. Just as he was about to head off to his room, Professor Riddle stopped him.

"This way," the professor ordered, leading him through a door on that went to the west wing of the manor. Harry gulped and hoped that he wasn't about to be shown something horrible. All that greeted him was a decorated room and several of the kid's he'd been in contact with along with their parents. Draco was among them and smiled when he saw Harry, Blaise and Pansy on either side with him. There were at least three cakes on a table in the back, and a small stack of presents on a table to the right.

Harson was there as well, and he walked up to Harry with a big smile, "Told you I'd be bringing cake, kiddo."

Harry stared at it all in shocked silence. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen, and was half tempted to wave it all off as a dream. But it was real, and for the rest of the night he was pulled into conversation after conversation and had at least a three dozen birthday wishes thrown his way. Harson was the first to dig into the cake, and had probably eaten one cake by himself after Professor Riddle snarled at him angrily. But overall it was one of the best night's Harry had ever had, and by far the best birthday. It almost made him rethink his outlook on birthdays completely.

After the party ended, Harry trudged up to his room, wiping at his eyes tiredly. He yawned as he opened up his bedroom door, and then stiffened when he felt something land on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the white barn owl from Diagon Alley preening on his shoulder.

Professor Riddle's laugh at Harry's shocked expression came from behind. Harry turned around and was about to ask why when the professor explained. "I figured you'd need a companion other than me."

Harry looked down, feeling his face grown hot. "Thank you," he muttered, just loud enough for the professor to smirk as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Happy birthday, child," Professor Riddle whispered, before ordering Harry to get some sleep. Harry nodded and brought the owl over to her perch.

"I need a name for you," Harry said to the owl. After a moment of thought he pet her wings and asked, "How about Hedqwig?"

The owl cooed at that, making Harry smile even more. "Hedwig it is then. Good night."

Changing into his night clothes, Harry turned off the lights and went to bed.

* * *

1: "Bathe me in the blood of your enemies". Yeah, it was already explained, but whatever.  
2: "Sorry, my love." I swear, he's just a giant flirt.  
3: "Movitalir". It means "Blood blade", in a sense.

Sorry if this seemed a bit iffy. I just felt like writing something kind of adorable, but I'm horrible at that stuff.

Oh, and I've got links to an image I drew of the dagger and the history I wrote out for it.

art/Blood-Blade-410915006  
art/Blood-Blade-info-410920595?ga_submit_new=10%253A1384143481&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1


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